SCENE III.
A State-room in the same.
Enter Fiorinda, Sanazarro, and Calaminta.
Sanaz. And can it be, your bounties should fall down
In showers on my ingratitude, or the wrongs
Your greatness should revenge, teach you to pity?
What retribution can I make, what service
Pay to your goodness, that, in some proportion,
May to the world express I would be thankful?
Since my engagements are so great, that all
My best endeavours to appear your creature
Can but proclaim my wants, and what I owe
To your magnificence.
Fior. All debts are discharged
In this acknowledgment: yet, since you please
I shall impose some terms of satisfaction
For that which you profess yourself obliged for,
They shall be gentle ones, and such as will not,
I hope, afflict you.
Sanaz. Make me understand,
Great princess, what they are, and my obedience
Shall, with all cheerful willingness, subscribe
To what you shall command.
Fior. I will bind you to
Make good your promise. First, I then enjoin you
To love a lady, that, a noble way,
Truly affects you; and that you would take
To your protection and care the dukedom
Of Urbin, which no more is mine, but yours.
And that, when you have full possession of
My person as my fortune, you would use me,
Not as a princess, but instruct me in
The duties of an humble wife, for such,
The privilege of my birth no more remember'd,
I will be to you. This consented to,
All injuries are forgotten.
Sanaz. I am wretched,
In having but one life to be employ'd
As you please to dispose it. And, believe it,
If it be not already forfeited
To the fury of my prince, as 'tis your gift,
With all the faculties of my soul I'll study,
In what I may, to serve you.
Enter Giovanni and Lidia.
In this assurance. What sweet lady's this?
Sanaz. 'Tis Lidia, madam, she——
Fior. I understand you.
Nay, blush not; by my life, she is a rare one!
And, if I were your judge, I would not blame you
To like and love her. But, sir, you are mine now;
And I presume so on your constancy,
That I dare not be jealous.
Sanaz. All thoughts of her
Are in your goodness buried.
Lid. Pray you, sir,
Be comforted; your innocence should not know
What 'tis to fear; and if that you but look on
The guards that you have in yourself, you cannot.
The duke's your uncle, sir, and, though a little
Incensed against you, when he sees your sorrow,
He must be reconciled. What rugged Tartar,
Or cannibal, though bathed in human gore,
But, looking on your sweetness, would forget
His cruel nature, and let fall his weapon,
Though then aim'd at your throat?
Giov. O Lidia,
Of maids the honour, and your sex's glory!
It is not fear to die, but to lose you,
That brings this fever on me. I will now
Discover to you, that which, till this minute,
I durst not trust the air with. Ere you knew
What power the magic of your beauty had,
I was enchanted by it, liked, and loved it,
My fondness still increasing with my years;
And, flatter'd by false hopes, I did attend
Some blessed opportunity to move
The duke with his consent to make you mine:
But now, such is my star-cross'd destiny,
When he beholds you as you are, I may
As well entreat him give away his crown,
As to part from a jewel of more value.
Yet, howsoever, when you are his duchess,
And I am turn'd into forgotten dust,
Pray you, love my memory:—I should say more,
But I'm cut off.
Enter Cozimo, Charomonte, Contarino, Hieronimo, Hippolito, and Alphonso.
Sanaz. The duke! That countenance, once,
When it was clothed in smiles, show'd like an angel's,
But, now 'tis folded up in clouds of fury,
'Tis terrible to look on.
Lid. Sir.
Coz. A while
Silence your musical tongue, and let me feast
My eyes with the most ravishing object that
They ever gazed on. There's no miniature
In her fair face, but is a copious theme
Which would, discoursed at large of, make a volume.
What clear arch'd brows! what sparkling eyes! the lilies
Contending with the roses in her cheeks,
Who shall most set them off. What ruby lips!—
Or unto what can I compare her neck,
But to a rock of crystal? every limb
Proportion'd to love's wish, and in their neatness
Add lustre to the riches of her habit,
Not borrow from it.
Lid. You are pleased to show, sir,
The fluency of your language, in advancing
A subject much unworthy.
Coz. How! unworthy?
By all the vows which lovers offer at
The Cyprian goddess' altars, eloquence
Itself presuming, as you are, to speak you,
Would be struck dumb!—And what have you deserved then, [Giovanni and Sanazarro kneel.
(Wretches, you kneel too late,) that have endeavour'd
To spout the poison of your black detraction
On this immaculate whiteness? Was it malice
To her perfections? or——
Fior. Your highness promised
A gracious hearing to the count.
Lid. And prince too:
Do not make void so just a grant.
Coz. We will not:
Yet, since their accusation must be urged,
And strongly, ere their weak defence have hearing,
We seat you here, as judges, to determine
Of your gross wrongs and ours. [Seats the Ladies in the chairs of state.] And now, remembering
Whose deputies you are, be neither sway'd
Or with particular spleen, or foolish pity,
For neither can become you.
Char. There's some hope yet,
Since they have such gentle judges.
Coz. Rise, and stand forth, then,
And hear, with horror to your guilty souls,
What we will prove against you. Could this princess,
Thou enemy to thyself, [To Sanazarro.] stoop her high flight
Of towering greatness to invite thy lowness
To look up to it, and with nimble wings
Of gratitude couldst thou forbear to meet it?
Were her favours boundless in a noble way,
And warranted by our allowance, yet,
In thy acceptation, there appear'd no sign
Of a modest thankfulness?
Fior. Pray you, forbear
To press that further; 'tis a fault we have
Already heard, and pardon'd.
Coz. We will then
Pass over it, and briefly touch at that
Which does concern ourself; in which both being
Equal offenders, what we shall speak points
Indifferently at either. How we raised thee,
Forgetful Sanazarro! of our grace,
To a full possession of power and honours,
It being too well known, we'll not remember.
And what thou wert, rash youth, in expectation,
[To Giovanni.
And from which headlong thou hast thrown thyself,
Not Florence, but all Tuscany, can witness
With admiration. To assure thy hopes,
We did keep constant to a widow'd bed,
And did deny ourself those lawful pleasures
Our absolute power and height of blood allow'd us;
Made both, the keys that open'd our heart's secrets,
And what you spake, believed as oracles:
But you, in recompense of this, to him
That gave you all, to whom you owed your being,
With treacherous lies endeavour'd to conceal
This jewel from our knowledge, which ourself
Could only lay just claim to.
Giov. 'Tis most true, sir.
Sanaz. We both confess a guilty cause.
Coz. Look on her.
Is this a beauty fit to be embraced
By any subject's arms? can any tire
Become that forehead but a diadem?
Or, should we grant your being false to us
Could be excused, your treachery to her,
In seeking to deprive her of that greatness
(Her matchless worth consider'd) she was born to,
Must ne'er find pardon. We have spoken, ladies,
Like a rough orator, that brings more truth
Than rhetoric to make good his accusation;
And now expect your sentence.
[The Ladies descend from the state[93].
Lid. In your birth, sir,
You were mark'd out the judge of life and death,
And we, that are your subjects, to attend,
With trembling fear, your doom.
Fior. We do resign
This chair, as only proper to yourself.
Giov. And, since injustice we are lost, we fly
Unto your saving mercy. [All kneeling.
Sanaz. Which sets off
A prince much more than rigour.
Char. And becomes him,
When 'tis express'd to such as fell by weakness,
That being a twin-born brother to affection,
Better than wreaths of conquest.
Hier. Hip. Cont. Alph. We all speak
Their language, mighty sir.
Coz. You know our temper,
And therefore with more boldness venture on it:
And, would not our consent to your demands
Deprive us of a happiness hereafter
Ever to be despair'd of, we, perhaps,
Might hearken nearer to you; and could wish
With some qualification, or excuse,
You might make less the mountains of your crimes,
And so invite our clemency to feast with you.
But you, that knew with what impatiency
Of grief we parted from the fair Clarinda,
Our duchess, (let her memory still be sacred!)
And with what imprecations on ourself
We vow'd, not hoping e'er to see her equal,
Ne'er to make trial of a second choice,
If nature framed not one that did excel her,
As this maid's beauty prompts us that she does:—
And yet, with oaths then mix'd with tears, upon
Her monument we swore our eye should never
Again be tempted;—'tis true, and those vows
Are register'd above, something here tells me.—
Carolo, thou heard'st us swear.
Char. And swear so deeply,
That if all women's beauties were in this,
(As she's not to be named with the dead duchess,)
Nay, all their virtues bound up in one story,
(Of which mine is scarce an epitome,)
If you should take her as a wife, the weight
Of your perjuries would sink you. If I durst,
I had told you this before.
Coz. 'Tis strong truth, Carolo:
And yet what was necessity in us
Cannot free them from treason.
Char. There's your error:
The prince, in care to have you keep your vows
Made unto Heaven, vouchsafed to love my daughter[94].
Lid. He told me so, indeed, sir.
Fior. And the count
Averr'd as much to me.
Cos. You all conspire,
To force our mercy from us.
Char. Which given up,
To aftertimes preserves you unforsworn:
An honour which will live upon your tomb
When your greatness is forgotten.
Coz. Though we know
All this is practice[95], and that both are false,
Such reverence we will pay to dead Clarinda,
And to our serious oaths, that we are pleased
With our own hand to blind our eyes, and not
Know what we understand. Here, Giovanni,
We pardon thee; and take from us, in this,
More than our dukedom: love her. As I part
With her, all thoughts of women fly fast from us.
Sanazarro, we forgive you: in your service
To this princess, merit it. Yet let not others
That are in trust and grace, as you have been,
By the example of our lenity,
Presume upon their sovereign's clemency.
Enter Calandrino and Petronella.
All. Long live great Cozimo!
Cal. Sure the duke is
In the giving vein, they are so loud. Come on, spouse;
We have heard all, and we will have our boon too.
Coz. What is it?
Cal. That your grace, in remembrance of
My share in a dance, and that I play'd your part
When you should have drunk hard, would get this signior's grant
To give this damsel to me in the church,
For we are contracted. In it you shall do
Your dukedom pleasure.
Coz. How?
Cal. Why, the whole race
Of such as can act naturally fools' parts
Are quite worn out; and they that do survive
Do only zany us: and we will bring you,
If we die not without issue, of both sexes
Such chopping mirth-makers, as shall preserve
Perpetual cause of sport, both to your grace
And your posterity, that sad melancholy
Shall ne'er approach you.
Coz. We are pleased in it,
And will pay her portion.——[Comes forward.
May the passage prove,
Of what's presented, worthy of your love
And favour, as was aim'd; and we have all
That can in compass of our wishes fall. [Exeunt.
[THE BONDMAN.]
The Bondman was performed, as we learn from the Office-book of Sir Henry Herbert, Master of the Revels, at the Cockpit in Drury-lane, December 3, 1623. It was printed the following year, and again in 1638.
The main incident of the plot is taken from the life of Timoleon, as related by Plutarch. The revolt and subsequent reduction of the slaves to their duty may have been taken either from Herodotus or Justin, or Purchas's Pilgrim. The artifice by which they are quelled is silly and unnatural, and its introduction degrades a very beautifully managed plot.
The play was revived in 1660 by Betterton, who played Pisander; and several alterations of it have since been produced, but without success.
Our author never writes with more effect than when he combines his own fancy with real history; and in The Bondman he has produced a piece which is, with few exceptions, at once stately and playful, impressive and tender. He matures the love under the cover of the history; till at length the interest changes, and the history becomes subordinate to the love.
The characters are drawn with much variety and interest. The modest gravity and self-command of Timoleon well agrees with the ancient descriptions of the man from whose mouth nihil unquam insolens, neque gloriosum exiit.
TO
THE RIGHT HONOURABLE, MY SINGULAR GOOD LORD,
PHILIP, EARL OF MONTGOMERY,
KNIGHT OF THE MOST NOBLE ORDER OF THE GARTER, &C.
RIGHT HONOURABLE,
However I could never arrive at the happiness to be made known to your lordship, yet a desire, born with me, to make a tender of all duties and service to the noble family of the Herberts, descended to me as an inheritance from my dead father, Arthur Massinger. Many years he happily spent in the service of your honourable house, and died a servant to it; leaving his to be ever most glad and ready to be at the command of all such as derive themselves from his most honoured master, your lordship's most noble father. The consideration of this encouraged me (having no other means to present my humblest service to your honour) to shroud this trifle under the wings of your noble protection; and I hope, out of the clemency of your heroic disposition, it will find, though perhaps not a welcome entertainment, yet, at the worst, a gracious pardon. When it was first acted, your lordship's liberal suffrage taught others to allow it for current, it having received the undoubted stamp of your lordship's allowance: and if in the perusal of any vacant hour, when your honour's more serious occasions shall give you leave to read it, it answer, in your lordship's judgment, the report and opinion it had upon the stage, I shall esteem my labours not ill employed, and, while I live, continue
the humblest of those that
truly honour your lordship,
PHILIP MASSINGER.